


safe

by PoemIsDead



Category: JackSepticEye (YouTube RPF), Markiplier (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, BDSM, BDSM as a coping mechanism, Dom/sub, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Non-Explicit, i honestly don't know how to tag this, this is what happens when i try to drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-27
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-17 12:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17560184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoemIsDead/pseuds/PoemIsDead
Summary: Here, Jack doesn't need to be strong. Here, Jack doesn't need to think.Here, Jack is safe.





	safe

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GalaxyGhosty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GalaxyGhosty/gifts).



> I don't know what this is. Ghosty, love, you know I tried to write this a million times, and I honestly didn't know what it was going to be when I started it, but here it is I guess. The closest I will ever come to one of your beautiful little drabbles.
> 
> Idk guys, it's like 2am, I shouldn't be writing, there's probably a lot more I could have done with this if I was more coherent, but then it would never have gotten written, so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Happy very late birthday, Ghosty. Love you <3

_I'm safe._

It doesn't matter how many times they do this. The words still ring through his head every time.

_I'm safe._

_I'm safe here._

He feels it. The safety. The security this gives him. The tension pours out of his limbs so slowly, like some heavy oil being drained. It takes time, and gravity, patience to let the thick, viscous tension drip from his bones. But it happens here.

Here, on his knees, where the plush carpet cushions his knobby joints. Here, where the only light is fuzzy and dim, seeping in under the soft cloth wrapped over his eyes. Here, where the only important sound in the world is the footsteps prowling so slowly around him, and the surety in the voice that pours over his ears.

"Don't you look lovely like that, my sweet?"

It's not a question he's meant to answer. It's not a question he _needs_ to answer. He doesn't need to say anything, to think about anything, to do anything, unless he's told. There's nothing expected of him here but obedience. Listen, wait, obey. Don't think.

Safety.

"But you always look lovely, don't you?"

The voice is like warm velvet, wrapping him up, soft but firm, like the velcro cuffs binding his wrists behind his back. It's powerful. Confident. Sure. Things he doesn't need to be right now.

"My pretty, perfect thing."

The hand that cups his cheek is cool and rough, scratching against his beard as it tilts his jaw up, and Jack leans into it without a thought.

He's allowed to here. He can act without thought. There are no complex rules, no unseen consequences waiting just around the corner. No people hanging on his words, waiting for what he says, taking the meanings and tearing them apart.

There's only Dark, and the simplest of rules. Obey.

And he does.

Without thought.

The hand is cool on his face, but it's warming. Fingers are mapping him out carefully, like this is the first time, and Dark has to learn him all over again.

There used to be a fear in that. That he'd find something in all his searching that he didn't like. That he'd find him lacking, that he'd pick out every one of the little imperfections that dotted his body and mind. Because Jack knows they're there. He's mapped them himself in the mirror enough. The soft spots, the scars, the flaws. But it's hard to remember them in the dark, where the only thing he knows is warming touch and effortless praise.

Fingertips press into the bruised skin under his eyes, the movement just a shadow in the gap of his blindfold.

"You're exhausted."

The statement is simple, but absolute. Not an assumption for him to argue, a fear for him to asuage. No pretty words or lies need leap to his tongue. He doesn't need to be strong here.

"Yes," he whispers back, voice so soft and broken. He hates the way it sounds, but he loves hearing it nonetheless. It's honest. Honest is scary, and honest is painful, but it's a heat to the tar sticking to his body, helping bleed it all away.

"Why?" Dark asks, and it's not curiosity that fuels the question, Jack knows. It's not even really a question at all. It's a command, to tell him, to say it out loud instead of bury it down.

He can't say it anywhere else. Can't admit it. There are people he needs to be strong for. People he can't be tired around. People that need him. He chose the responsibilities he carries, and he wants to carry them.

But he doesn't have to here.

"I can't sleep." He whispers the words like they're some black secret. As if anyone would judge him for something so common, a weakness millions know. But the words are still heavy on his tongue.

Dark hums. Jack knows if he looked just the right way, he could see Dark's shoes from the bottom of his blindfold, but he doesn't want to. He likes the emptiness, the lack of definition to his world.

He likes this place where it's just sound and touch and Dark.

"You will sleep tonight," Dark tells him, hand pressing gently into his hair, catching a grip in messy locks to turn Jack's head ever so slightly. "I'll make sure of that."

Jack believes him. He didn't before. He didn't trust him in the beginning. But he's learned better now.

Dark doesn't lie. Not here.

Jack closes his eyes, blocking out the foggy hint of light on the edges of his vision, and concentrates on the sensation of fingers in his hair.

Dark will ask something of him. Dark always asks so much of him in this room. Demands so much of his body and mind. But there's never anything else. Everything is straight-forward, clear, _easy_. Do as he's told, _exactly_ as he's told. Don't think. Don't stress. Don't worry.

Dark will demand everything, and Jack will give it to him without hesitation.

It's such a small price to pay.

"Open your mouth," Dark tells him, and the shiver that runs through him is like knots untying, slipping loose and leaving him boneless and weak. There's no thought to the action, no thought needed. All he has to do is open his mouth, and already he can feel Dark's fingers brushing along his bottom lip, as if offering to help.

He sighs at the feeling of Dark's thumb pressing against his tongue, jaw loose and lips pliant. Dark will ask a lot of him. But never something he can't give. Never more than he's capable of. Dark will ask a lot, and he'll always be able to give it.

_I'm safe here,_ he thinks again, the tar dripping from his limbs as he wraps his lips around the warm thumb and sucks as he's told. There are fingers in his hair, and emptiness in his mind, and he knows for sure - for once - that this is true.

_I am safe._

And here, for now, with Dark, he is.


End file.
